


A Club For the Broken

by blossomatris



Category: Free!
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Asahi's mom is abusive, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Haru has anorexia, Ikuya's father sexually assaults him, Makoto has anxiety, Multi, Nagisa's parents neglect him, Panic Attacks, Pedophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossomatris/pseuds/blossomatris
Summary: There's only one rule:Listen.





	1. Theft of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to say this once: This fic is a vent fic and it will contain explicitly sensitive topics with extremely graphic details. If there's anything in the tags that may trigger you, turn away now because I am not beating around the bushes with this story.

⦅ **Kirishima** , Ikuya ⨟ ⦆

 

Had he simply woken up at the creak of the door, or the dip of the bed, or the removal of his blankets, maybe Ikuya could have stopped it that night. Or, maybe not. His father was stronger than him and bigger, something he used to his advantage. So, perhaps when the hot hand slid under his shirt and jerked him awake, it would have happened _anyways_ , whether or not he’d woken up sooner.

Grabbing his father’s wrist, fingers twisting his nipples, did nothing but encourage him in his drunken state. The scent of alcohol was already smothering Ikuya.  

            “No,” he mumbled. He felt sick to his stomach and he was still half asleep.

His father crawled on top of him and pulled his shirt off, despite Ikuya’s resistance.

“Please, don’t. Not- not now. Stop, please, stop.” His voice wavered and his muscles trembled as he struggled to keep his father’s hands off of him.

            “Mm, you smell beautiful, Ikuya,” the drunken man hummed deeply. His fingers hooked under the waist of Ikuya’s pyjama pants, and in one swift motion, he had his son naked underneath of him.

            Ikuya’s breath caught in his throat. The second he felt his father’s rough hands rip his legs open, he cried out for his brother, knowing he was sleeping in the room a few steps down the hall. As soon as the words left his mouth, those rough hands that were previously running over his legs snapped up to his neck and mouth.  

            His dad’s fingers lined up perfectly on the bruises on his neck from earlier.

            “Iki... Iki…” his father growled. His eyes were hooded and his chest heaving. “You know what happens when you call for your bitch of a brother.”

            “Don’t call me that,” Ikuya whispered, turning his face away from the rancid breath that was hitting his face.

            “Why not? It’s fresh; holds more innocence. We’ve overused Ikuya, don’t you think? I love the way Iki tastes in my mouth. It’s sweeter. _Sweet as sugar._ ”

            Ikuya swallowed down a whimper as his father attached his mouth to his collar bone, biting harshly. Tears welled in his eyes. The hands on his mouth and neck pulled away and yet again tore his legs open, allowing his father’s leg to slide between them. One hand wrapped itself around Ikuya’s penis, and the other one pulled at Ikuya’s hair.

            He turned and looked at the digital clock glowing in the darkness.

            **_04:11._** His father sucked at the skin between his thighs, trailing his tongue in places that made Ikuya’s body reel. He silently pleaded for Natsuya to help him.

            **_04:13._** His pinched his nipples so hard, tears slid over Ikuya’s face and he couldn’t stop himself from pathetically begging for him to stop. This only spurred his father on even more.

            **_04:18._** His father leaned back, sitting up and pulled Ikuya down, shoving his face ito his cock. With no other choice but to obey, he opened his mouth and instantly, his dad pushed him down, the large member hitting the back of Ikuya’s throat. Every time a sob got caught behind the member in his mouth, his father would moan and tear feverishly at his hair.

            **_04:24._** His father had three fingers penetrating him, and he continuously groaned, “Iki, you’re so fucking _tight_.” Every time his dad spread or curled his fingers, Ikuya shut down a little bit more.

            **_04:32._** His father forced his face into his pillows and lined his penis up behind him, thrusting in. Ikuya gripped his sheets so tightly his hands went numb. He was crying, dissociating, and sobbing into the pillow. _He did not enjoy it._

            **_04:36._** There was pain ripping his back end apart. He hated having to give the blood and semen covered sheets to Natsuya to try to clean.

            **_04:40._** Heat exploded inside of him and his father growled, ripping his head back by his hair. Ikuya was clawing at the sheets.

            “Onii-chan! Onii- Onii-chan!” he cried. His father, having reached his release, collapsed on top of him.

            **_04:41._** Natsuya threw the door open, hair messy from sleep. He flicked the lights on and rushed towards the bed. He grabbed their fathers passed out body and rolled him unceremoniously onto the floor.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ikuya coughed out as Natsuya wiped tears off of his younger brother’s cheeks.

            “It’s not your fault,” Natsuya whispered in a low voice. He picked up Ikuya’s shirt and handed it to him. “We’ll clean you off. I’ll wash your sheets. You can sleep in my bed until you need to get up for school. It’s going to be okay.”

            Ikuya looked down and saw thin rivulets of red staining his inner thighs.

            Natsuya helped him off of the dirty bed and Ikuya nearly collapsed as pain shot up his spine. Natsuya pretty much carried him to the washroom and ran the shower. He helped his younger brother into the tub. Ikuya didn’t take the shirt off.

            “While you’re cleaning up, I’m going to go wash your sheets, okay?”

            As soon as Natsuya had shut the bathroom door behind him, Ikuya slowly slid to his knees and cried, the tears suffocating him.

            And this time, it had only lasted 30 minutes.


	2. Withered Confidence

⦅ **Tachibana** , Makoto ⨟ ⦆

 

School work was done in the student support centre on his bad days—like today—and on better days, he attended class with Haru. But the bad days seemed to be more common than the common cold and Makoto rarely saw his friends anymore.

            Thirty-five minutes of work and already the anxiety was thundering in his chest like a stampede of horses. He dropped his pencil, nauseated, and sat back. As usual, the anxiety was vague, but always, always, there. He never knew why he was anxious, and that made it hard to explain himself.

            There was always one class that he couldn’t run from—ironically—and that was PE. The dread of having to change in the locker room; have everyone watch him struggle to coordinate himself with the activities; and the _sweat,_ sat in Makoto’s stomach like massive hunk of ice. He would rather do a million tests than go to gym class.

            The only thing that made PE the slightest bit manageable was being with Haru. Having his small body beside his own made Makoto’s anxiety lessen. He knew that Haru hated PE just as much as he did, but for his own reasons.  

            Currently on the court were Kisumi and Ikuya. Volleyball was clearly not Kisumi’s strong point, and that made Makoto feel a bit better.

            But then the coach shouted “Tachibana! Nanase! You’re up!” and the anxiety swooped in like a wave.

            Ikuya and Kisumi walked off their side of the net, Kisumi giving Haru’s shoulder a light slap and Ikuya panting, his cheeks flushed. Makoto hated King’s Court. There was too much pressure and everyone that who wasn’t playing was watching. All eyes were on you, and if Makoto messed up (which he _always did_ ), then everybody would see and laugh about it for the rest of the day.

            The two current ‘kings’ eyed up their new opponents before serving. Makoto instantly dissociated, his anxiety physically hurting his chest. He wasn’t aware of his actions. He wasn’t aware of Haru’s movement beside him.

            It felt like it went on for hours.

            But then, Haru was too slow to get the ball, and it bounced down onto the floor. Makoto tumbled back into his body and his eyes zeroed in on his friend, breathing heavily. His chest was heaving far too much for just a few minutes of activity.  

            “Haru, are you ok-“

            “I’m fine,” Haru interrupted. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glazed.

Makoto had seen Haru faint before, and it was always the worst thing he could ever witness. Every time he was terrified it was going to be the time that Haru wouldn’t wake up.

            The pair walked off the court, drifting towards Ikuya and Kisumi. Makoto’s stomach was twisting painfully. When they stopped, Haru put a hand on the stage and steadied himself. Kisumi eyed him, clearly concerned.

            “You don’t look too good,” the pink haired boy said. “Maybe you should tell coach you need to take a break. Or sit down? Drink some water or something.”

            Haru shook his head, but his expression told them all a different story. Makoto didn’t know what to say—he never knew what to say to Haru when this happened. Haru was trembling like his limbs were made from noodles, but Makoto had never felt so tense in his life, bracing himself for Haru’s knees to give out on him.

            “You need to eat,” Ikuya said.

            Haru opened his eyes and took his hand off the stage, and snapped, “As if you weigh more than me, Kirishima.”  

            Ikuya glared and his fists clenched. “Yeah, well, when you die in your fucking sleep, don’t say I didn’t try. At least I’m _healthy_ and can fucking _stand_ for longer than five minutes.”

            “Okay, Ikuya… I don’t that’s really helping,” Kisumi said, looking uncomfortable.

Haru’s usually lifeless eyes were steely.

            Makoto chewed on his tongue, tasting blood. He reached over and wrapped a hand around Haru’s boney wrist, and he turned away from Ikuya, looking at the volleyball court. Kisumi glanced at Makoto—not in the dark about Haru’s eating disorder—and swept Ikuya away.

            Makoto swallowed and look at Haru’s bent head. His wrist was still in his grip.

            “Haru… Do you- Do you want to- to- Do you want me to take you to the nurse’s office?” Makoto asked quietly. Haru’s face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat.

            “Please,” Haru whispered, twisting his shaking, twig-like hand until it grasped Makoto’s tightly.

            And Makoto shoved down the flutter of his heart, told the coach where they were going, and slowly walked Haru to the nurse’s office.


	3. A Safe Haven

⦅ **Hazuki** , Nagisa ⨟ ⦆

 

Nagisa loved school—sometimes. It was an entirely different place than home where people actually listened to what he had to say and the teachers actually seemed genuinely invested in his work. Nagisa felt entirely different at school.  

            When Nagisa was at school, he felt like a _person_. An honest, three-dimensional person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Nagisa could actually breathe and get out of his head for once. He was surrounded by all of his favourite people who accepted him for him.

            Nagisa whipped open the door to the club room and shouted, “Asahi-chan! I would like to inform you that as of now, you are a part of my expirement.”

            Asahi looked at the second-year and blinked. “How so?”

            Nagisa seated himself in a wooden chair around the centre table, placed his folded hands on top of it, and said, “Not tomorrow, but the next day, I want you to go to my house and ask where I am. Like, as if you want to hang out or something. I want to see if that sparks some sort of ‘oh, I haven’t seen our youngest child for the past few days’ thoughts in my parent’s brains.”

            “I would feel kind of bad doing that,” Asahi said.

            “And you don’t feel bad about the fact that I’m going to be homeless for the next week?”

            Haru walked into the club room and interrupted the conversation, saying, “No you aren’t. You’ve already moved into my house.”

            Asahi looked at him. “And you let him?”

            “I didn’t know until I woke up this morning for my run and practically stepped on him.”

            Nagisa winked and was about to say something else when Makoto and Ikuya entered the room. Makoto still wore his school uniform, but Ikuya had changed into grey sweats and large mossy green knitted sweater that swallowed him whole.

            Asahi sprung out of his chair, planting his hands on the table and saying, “Alright, Kirishima, take a seat. I’ve been worried about you all day.”

            Nagisa looked between Asahi and Ikuya, already confused and curious. Haru and Makoto were watching as well, and Nagisa took note that Haru wasn’t looking all that peachy. Perhaps today’s club meeting would be a tad heavier than Nagisa thought.

            Ikuya slowly sat down into a chair. He was still for one second before his face cracked and tears flooded from his eyes.

Nagisa froze, hypnotized by the way Ikuya’s eyes welled with tears before they slipped over and raced down his cheeks. He was fascinated with the way Ikuya’s fists were held in front of him as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands as his body shook with sobs.

            He was fascinated, hypnotized, in awe at the way Ikuya’s usual cool exterior could crumble and _would_ crumble every day during club.

And, as a club rule, you weren’t allowed to comfort anyone until they’d spoken. If someone was crying, the only job they had was to listen—something Nagisa’s parents had failed to do with him.  

            He paid attention as Ikuya got his story out through his sobs and tears.


	4. Food Poisoning

⦅ **Nanase** , Haruka ⨟ ⦆

 

From his spot on the roof, it looked like the pool below was full of glitter as the sun glinted off the tiny ripples that the wind was creating. A couple of girls were down by the side of the pool, giggling and circling their feet in the water.

            Haru blinked lazily and thought, _they have very beautiful bodies._ He let his eyes wander to their chests, entranced by the way their slim shoulders and prominent collar bones melded right into small breasts; a smooth journey from their breasts to slight waists and delicate hips; delicate hips attached to thin legs. Their bodies were like a waterfall of perfection.

            Haru glanced down at his own body. More like a rock fall of flaws.

            “Haru? We’ve been looking for you.”

            He turned around and looked at Asahi, standing at the door to the roof. Behind him was Makoto. He didn’t respond to Asahi. He gave once last look at the girls and then walked towards his friends.

            Makoto was biting his fingernails again. Once he moved out of the doorway, Haru noticed that Ikuya was behind him, his small body folded closely inwards and his big, feminine eyes void of emotion. Haru felt resentment rise in his stomach and rest in the back of his throat as bile.

            Ikuya was everything that Haru was not.

            “Where’s Nagisa? I thought he was here today?” Makoto said, eyes scanning the rooftop.

            Haru let out a breath. “I haven’t seen him.”

            Makoto’s flickering eyes came to a stop, resting on Haru. Somehow, his sad eyes grew even sadder and he asked, “Have you eaten, Haru?”

            Haru looked away.

            “I brought some extra food today. Um, for you. I didn’t think you would have eaten. It’s nothing that’ll be hard to eat, I promise,” Makoto said, offering a lunch bag.

            Haru kept his eyes averted and muttered, “Thank you.” He felt no gratitude. He did not _want_ the food.

            Asahi flopped down on the ground and placed his own lunch in front of him, opening it up and taking a bite of a wrap. Ikuya sat down beside him. Haru tried to not feel sick and Makoto just sat, holding his lunch.

            “No one’s going to judge you,” Haru said to Makoto, blinking. “If we’re going to judge anyone, it’ll be Asahi.”

            Makoto smiled faintly and rocked slightly. “I know. I just … I just don’t want to eat.”

            “Why would you bring your lunch if you don’t want to eat, then?” Ikuya asked bluntly.

            Asahi spooned some rice into his mouth and scolded Ikuya. “C’mon, Iki, it’s nothing new.”

            Ikuya’s eyes fluttered shut and he said quietly, “Don’t call me Iki.”

            The other three looked at him. He’d never been bothered by the nickname previously, but they could remember Ikuya’s story well enough. Ikuya was more than rattled by his father calling him by his safe name.

Haru couldn’t stop from looking at Ikuya; couldn’t help his eyes from following the slight form of his body. He was tiny. Small, and delicate. He was beautiful. Disgusting as it was, it was no wonder why his father treated so vulgarly.

            Ikuya’s body simply faded into his clothes—clothes that were always too big—and his limbs looked like things you could easily snap. His thighs always held a gap between them. His collar bones protruded sharply. His hands were slight and small.

            Haru began to count the calories he’d already burnt that day so far. He had gotten out of bed early this morning and gone for a run before returning home for a cold shower. He hadn’t touched a single piece of food all day yet.

            All his efforts and he was still big and hideous. He hadn’t reached perfection yet, and at this rate, it seemed he never would. Albeit, he was getting closer to his goal, but it seemed every step forward was followed by five steps back.

            Haru was going to show his father that he could be perfect. He could be the son that he wanted. He would be. _He would be._


	5. Beaten but Not Broken

⦅ **Shiina** , Asahi ⨟ ⦆

 

Aiko and Asahi were both in the washroom, glopping makeup on their bodies to cover the cuts and bruises. Aiko was putting layer after layer of foundation on her cheekbone to hide the growing purple spot.

            “I can’t even see it,” Asahi mumbled, glancing down at his own only barely visible finger prints on his arm, as well as his scars.

            Aiko powdered her face and stared at her reflection, her mouth turned down in a frown. Her eyes were pooling with tears. Asahi rose his eyes from his arms, to her face, and then down at her own arms, thin and laced with small cuts.

            “Are you not going to cover those?” Asahi asked, his voice low.

            “I … will. I’m just waiting for you to be done with the foundation,” his sister replied, swallowing thickly.

            Asahi sighed heavily and finished off applying makeup to himself, sliding the products to his sister and left the washroom. She closed the door the second he was out and Asahi heard her cough out a sob.

            Their mother was passed out on the sofa, an arm hanging limply over the side.

            Five minutes later, Aiko left the washroom with clean flesh and bright eyes. Within a few minutes, she had pulled herself together and put on her public façade. They grabbed their stuff and left the house to meet up with Ikuya and Natsuya.

            As they approached the two Kirishima siblings, Natsuya took one look at Aiko and asked, “Is everything okay?” He had a look of concern on his face.

            Aiko smiled and stroked a hand down one of her pigtails, saying, “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

            Asahi stared at her, but didn’t say anything. He fell into familiar step beside Ikuya and stared down at the pavement as they walked. Ikuya was—unsurprisingly—silent on their way to school, and Asahi struggled to find something to fill the silence.

            Ten minutes passed. Natsuya and Aiko were chatting themselves, and eventually faded away as they split in the direction of the high school. Next year, Asahi and Ikuya would be going with them.

            Asahi stretched and linked his fingers behind his head, looking at the sky rather then the pavement.

“Did you hear? Nagisa’s doing another social experiment. He’s going to see how long he can be gone for before his family notices.”

            Ikuya’s tilted his head down to the side, saying quietly, “Hasn’t he done that one already?”

            “A while ago, yeah, but he thinks it could go longer this time.”

            “Is he coming to school?”

            “Yeah, he said it would ruin the experiment if he didn’t. School would call home if he missed classes and then his family would be suddenly aware of his existence.”

            Ikuya gripped the neckline of his uniform and buried his mouth into it, gazing blankly at the pavement ahead of them. Asahi’s stomach lurched as he examined his friend, and he asked in a quiet voice, “Did he touch you again last night?”

            Ikuya’s eyes fell shut briefly before he opened them again and said, “I’ll tell you after school, okay?”

            Asahi knew not to pry and simply nodded before they continued on in silence.


	6. How Things Can End

⦅ **Tachibana,** Makoto ⨟ ⦆

 

The day was coming to an end and Makoto was feeling good; happy; calm. He was excited to walk home with Haru, maybe hang out at his house for a bit. It was a good day.

            But then Haru stood up after class and utterly dropped like a dead weight. Makoto’s positive mood dropped as instantly as Haru had. He shouted for the teacher, collapsing to his knees. Haru was pale and barely breathing. The teacher rushed over and knelt down, picking up a thin, lightly scarred wrist.

            “Makoto, can you get the school nurse, please? Quickly,” the teacher said.

            Makoto got to his feet, his hands already going numb, and rushed out the door, crashing into Ikuya.

            “Oh, my god,” Makoto said, snatching Ikuya’s sweater before he fell. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t see you. I’m in a rush.”

            Asahi nodded and tugged Ikuya back by the bottom hem of his jumper. “Clearly. What’s up? Who’s chasing you?”

            “Haru passed out again,” Makoto stuttered out. “I’m going to get the nurse.”

            “Oh. Shit,” Asahi said, peering into the room. Ikuya, beside him, folded his bottom lip between his teeth and swallowed thickly. “Do you need help?” Asahi asked the teacher.

            The teacher kneeling beside Haru glanced up and shook her head. She had her phone to her ear. “No, you two go to your club activities. Makoto, get the nurse.”

            Makoto nodded and turned back around, running down the hall and stairs, going to the nurse’s office. His head was slowly filling with sludge and clogged his ears until all he could hear in his head was his own heartbeat.

            Two minutes, he was back in the classroom, watching the nurse try to draw Haru into consciousness. Sirens of an ambulance could be heard, quiet, but slowly growing louder and louder. Makoto could hear himself asking if he could ride with Haru. He could hear the nurse telling him, “No, go to your activities”.

            He watched the paramedics hoist Haru onto a stretcher and strap a mask over his nose and mouth. They wheeled him out of the room and a small crowd of spectators had begun to form. The teacher who had called the ambulance was shifting through drawers, searching for Haru’s contact information.

            From the classroom window, Makoto watched the ambulance speed away, Haru locked inside. His chest was iced over and he felt dizzy, thinking ‘ _This time, he wasn’t going to wake up. He was going to be hooked to a million tubes, left in a coma until somebody ended things for him_ ’.

            “Hey, Makoto,” a quiet voice said from behind him. “Ikuya and Asahi are in the club room. They’re waiting for us. Why don’t we head over, yeah?”

            Makoto turned to Nagisa, standing in the doorway. His hair was glinting on his head like a golden halo and his bright eyes shimmered, almost like a doll’s. Makoto glanced once more out the window and then slowly made his way towards Nagisa. He slung his arm around the shorter one’s shoulders and whispered, “I’m don’t feel too hot right now.”

            “He’ll be alright,” Nagisa mumbled, wrapping an arm around Makoto’s waist. “He’s going to be okay. He always is. He just needs this little bit of time to reboot, you know? He was getting bad again. We saw this coming.”

            “How many times is he going to ‘get bad again’ before he doesn’t ‘get better again’?” Makoto whispered, his throat closing up. Nagisa helped him up the stairs and they started their way towards the room at the end of the hall.

            Ikuya and Asahi were already at the table. Asahi was playing some cooking game on his phone and Ikuya was still as a statue, watching him with the cuff of his sweater in his mouth. Both looked up when Nagisa and Makoto entered.

            “Should we go see him when he wakes up?” Asahi asked. He paused his game.

            Makoto shook his head. “No, you know how he is. We should… We should give him some time to get back on his feet…”

            The past times that Haru had collapsed, he would come to and become irritated. Makoto knew he got frustrated because he thought he had failed, and he was embarrassed. Haru hated to admit that by not eating he was causing his body harm, but it was pretty hard to admit that fact when he was hooked up to machines in the hospital with doctors telling him what he was actually doing to himself.

            He especially hated it when all of his friends, the doctors, and his mom tried to convince him to accept some help.

            Makoto could remember the first and last time he’d tried taking some of that professional help. Haru got so fed up with it that he simply broke. He refused food more than before, he stopped speaking, he spent more time in the bathroom scratching at the back of his throat than not, and he took an interest in his mother’s sleeping pills.

            The moment his mom took him out of therapy, he began speaking again, he had a small meal and he returned an empty bottle of sleeping pills to his mom.

            Makoto sat down in front of Ikuya and put his head down, closing his eyes tiredly. He didn’t know how long it would take for Haru to wake up this time—if he did.

            “Can someone talk?” Makoto said quietly, his voice muffled against the table. “About anything. Please?”

            Asahi shifted his position, propping his socked feet on the table and said, “My mom’s gone missing. Dunno where she’s gone or when she’ll get back.”

            Makoto heard him, but he wasn’t in the room anymore. He was lost in his head, remembering the times before Haru had shed all aspects of his personality and became a void body.


End file.
